She said to me once upon a time that the Metallica song that best described her life was "Sad But True". We laughed when she said that. By that time we'd been married for six months, meaning I'd known her a grand total of twelve months-- a year, give or take a week. It seemed like longer, of course. Not because it was an intolerable thing. Rather, it was quite nice, being married and all. We hadn't had the baby yet, she wasn't anywhere near pregnant.
We were standing outside in the alley behind a bar in Hollywood known for its margaritas. May have even been in the name of the venue, the Something Margarita or a similar name. We were smoking and drinking, and we'd been together for some time and she was talking to me...
Oh wait, maybe we weren't married yet. Maybe I got it all wrong. Maybe this was the courtship part, where we had the attraction but not anything moving it forward. My memories are beginning to get nebulous as I try to retrace the moment, so rather than beat it to death I will just say that we were still getting to know each other, and our fate was that we were either married with no kids or we were about to be married with a kid.
I forgot what my answer was. Probably something well-calculated, an attempt to be hip and with-it even as we were discussing Metallica, a band that had long ago lost a great deal of credibility. It wasn't hip to like Metallica, so my answer would be in vain regardless. And yet there we were, talking about it... we both liked the band. We knew that it was the early stuff-- who doesn't? Every band is great in the beginning, every band starts off strong and then goes insanely wrong.
A lot of marriages do too. Especially the ones that begin so fast and burn so bright.
For the sake of continuing I will just put it out there that my pick was "Dyers Eve". A song about Christian Scientist parents, an angry scream backed by muscular metal guitar riffing and breakneck speed drumming, an adolescent temper tantrum committed to reel-to-reel tape, mixed down muddily (and yet with no bass!) and transmitted directly into the Walkman of a pimply, long-haired loner with glasses as thick as steel welders and and chip even thicker weighing down his shoulder. I can see myself saying that it was the song that described my life, even if my parents weren't exactly Christian Scientists. They were religious but not that religious.
My answer was not remarkable, which is why I don't remember it. But her pick... that was memorable. And funny. Even if she wasn't joking, it was memorable. I remember so many things about her that fit that description as well. Her choice of song colored my view of her probably from that moment on. After that, everything about her seemed sad but true. I wonder if she even thought twice about my choice. If I asked her, she might remember... but her memory isn't all that reliable anyway. She might say something really far out, like my song was "Sanitarium (Welcome Home)" or something along those lines. For that matter, she may not even remember what her own answer was, and that would not be shocking or terrible.
It'd be sad but true. That's what it would be. Sad but true.
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